


A is Not For Ally

by seekeronthepath



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Coming Out, Gen, Law School, Queerplatonic Relationships, Touch-Starved, ace Shitty, aka bros but committed, aromantic Shitty, depressed Shitty, lesbian Lardo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8688658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekeronthepath/pseuds/seekeronthepath
Summary: No-one ever asked why Shitty didn't date when he was at Samwell. It didn't become a problem until later, anyway.





	

The thing about Shitty was, after a lifetime of watching from the sidelines as people around him got metaphorically and impersonally shoved under the metaphorical prejudice bus, he’d learned to both love and hate the fundamental and unavoidable privilege that came with being a neurotypical, non-disabled, cisgendered, straight rich white guy.

Actually, that’s bullshit. Let’s try again.

The thing about Shitty was, after growing up around the specific brand of upper class toxic masculinity that his family endorsed, he had run as far as possible in the other direction, seeking out contact and connection and communication and emotion.

Still bullshit.

The thing about Shitty was, he was a coward.

 

\-----

 

Bradley Andrew Knight Junior, aka ‘Shitty’, did not know everything there was to know about heteronormativity and privilege, but it wasn’t through lack of trying. The cat-calling of his peers at Andover, and their constant judgement of the attractiveness of every female-passing person they came across, creeped him out. He was determined to not be ‘that guy’, so he did his reading, and once he got into Samwell, he took gender studies as well, and sure, maybe he liked to proselytise, but everyone could stand to better educated on this shit, right?

The hockey team, at first glance, was just as bad as his ‘friends’ at Andover. But then there was Jack. Jack Zimmerman, to be precise. Jack Zimmerman, son of Bad Bob Zimmerman, a guy who had descended not into obscurity, but into ignominy, after overdosing on something no one had been able to authoritatively identify, the night before the draft.  So Jack may have been more invested in hockey culture than just about anyone, but Shitty was pretty sure that hockey culture wasn’t invested in  _him_ , not him as he genuinely was, as a flawed person with problems outside of hockey, and skills outside of hockey, and even (occasionally)  _wants_  outside of hockey. So Shitty latched onto Jack, because hey, there’s nothing an anxious, quiet guy like Jack likes more than a loud guy to hide behind. 

And it worked. Shitty had a friend who tolerated his eccentricities, tolerated his over-tactility, tolerated his long-winded rants, tolerated his lack of modesty. Shitty had someone he could cuddle, who would see him in his boxers (or less) and shrug, someone who’d never corner him and make him pronounce judgement on the women around him.

So that was pretty great.

 

\-----

 

Performative heterosexuality requires performance, but after his first year at Samwell, Shitty found that other people did a lot of the work.

He didn’t bring anyone with him to parties? He was hung up on Lardo.

He moaned and groaned and cursed while watching hockey plays? He totally made those noises when he watched porn.

He was empathetic and understanding when people came out to him? He cared, really cared, about being supportive – that’s why he took gender studies.

Everyone knew that Shitty was the ‘A’ in the LGBTQIA alphabet: Ally.

 

\-----

 

After four years at Samwell, Shitty still hadn’t come out to anyone. Not to Jack, not to Lardo. Not to Bitty, even, who had more courage in his figure-skating feet than Shitty had at all. And then Shitty went to Harvard, and it was a hundred times worse.

It wasn’t so much the heteronormativity that bothered him. (Even though that was driving him nuts.) It was the loneliness. Before Samwell, Shitty had had friends, but not  _bros_. Not got-your-back, let-me-cuddle-you-when-I’m-stoned, love-you-too-bro bros. And now they were gone again, or at least out of reach. He was lonely as fuck, to be frank, and so touch-starved he was cuddling pillows and leaning on sun-warmed brick walls to get a fix.

He was so happy for Jack – really, genuinely happy to see Jack doing what he loved and actually loving it. And (when he was sober, at least) he was proud of Jack for making connections on his new team, for having a social life to fill the hours between hockey and hockey. But maybe sometimes he lay awake at night selfishly wishing that Jack missed Samwell as much as he did, that Jack missed him as much as he missed Jack. And maybe sometimes he came up with stupid, unreasonable reasons why Jack might  _not_  have as much time to give him as Shitty wanted to have. And then the kegster happened, and Shitty made an ass of himself.

 

“How are you feeling this morning, Mr Heteronormative?” Lardo said dryly when Shitty woke up, in her bed, because Lardo was a fucking  _bro_.

“Unnnnnnngghhh,” Shitty groaned.

“Good for you,” she replied, yanking the curtains open.

“Oh  _god_ ,” Shitty whimpered, burrowing his face into the pillow and trying really, really hard not to be nauseous.

“You’re lucky we love you,” she told him. He could hear her moving around the room, but his brain wasn’t awake enough to identify the sounds. “There’s advil on the nightstand and probably pie waiting downstairs.”

It took Shitty a good half-an-hour to get up and stumble downstairs for something to eat. There  _was_  pie. Something wasn’t right about it, though. It took another whole half-an-hour for Shitty to figure out what. There was no sign of baking in the kitchen. No sign of any kind of cooking. There were still remains of the kegster, but no pie tins. This was a reheated blueberry crumble mini-pie. Which okay, wasn’t  _that_  weird. Except that every time he’d come back to Samwell since graduation, he’d got a strawberry cream pie. This was one of  _Holster’s_  pies. 

“Oh god,” Shitty muttered. “I’ve pissed off Bitty.” Pissing off Bitty was the  _worst_   _thing_. And Bitty had been noticeably absent from a lot of the kegster. And Bitty was really close to Jack, had been for a while. Fuck. Shitty thought through the night before and cringed. “I have become that which I hate,” he moaned.

He didn't even get to apologise; Jack had left early to go back to Providence, and  _he_ , unfortunately, had to get back to Boston. For now, he left a note on the cork-board:

_Shouldn't have got so pissed last night - this is a blanket apology for my fuck-ups, but if I pissed you off and I don't apologize specifically, lmk. Great game yesterday,_

_Shits_

 

_\-----_

 

Jack, I'm an asshole. I shouldn't have called you out at all, and definitely not in public. How you spend your time, and who you spend it with, is none of my business unless you want it to be. I'm glad you've been so happy lately, and I'm glad you've got friends in Providence. I really, really fucked up, I said some hurtful shit, I put you on the spot, and you're well within your rights to tell me to fuck off - SK

I hope you can forgive me, though. Is there some way I can fix it? - SK

 

_[delay]_

**I appreciate the apology - JZ**

**But Shits.../why/ did you do that? Why then? - JZ**

 

Ever heard of Dutch courage? I wouldn't have brought it up sober because, like I said, it's not my business. Not really - SK

As to why... - SK

Fuck it's easier to talk about feelings when I'm high - SK

 

**Are you okay? - JZ**

 

Yeah, I just really fucking miss Samwell. And you. And Lards. And the whole team, and hockey, and just...having people, you know? - SK

 

**So you're not okay - JZ**

**You could have said - JZ**

 

What a fuckin whiner, though. Like 'I got into law school, and it's all gonna be paid for by my rich dad, and I blend in with every privileged law student ever'. What the fuck have I got to complain about? - SK

 

**Being lonely, apparently - JZ**

**Sadness doesn't discriminate, Shitty. Trust me on that one - JZ**

 

You have a reason, though - SK

 

**What I 'have' is a mental illness - JZ**

**Besides, don't /you/ have a reason? People need other people - JZ**

 

I guess. I'm sorry I took it out on you, though - SK

 

_[long delay]_  

**I think I get it - JZ**

**But, so you know... I'm not straight - JZ**

 

Are you fucking kidding me? Christ, could I be any MORE of an asshole - SK

I'm sorry for my stupid assumptions - SK

 

**Thanks - JZ**

**So for future reference, don't ask me about relationships in public - JZ**

**Or, uh, unless I bring it up. Sorry - JZ**

 

No, hey, I've got your back, and that means respecting your privacy too. Thanks for telling me this much, though - SK

 

**You deserved to know**   **\- JZ**

 

Dude, you don't owe coming out to anyone - SK

 

**Well, I wanted to - JZ**

 

Thanks for trusting me, Jack. I'll try not to fuck it up again – SK

 

\-----

 

Talking to Jack made Shitty feel both better  _and_  worse. Because hey, Jack wasn't straight either! But also Jack had never told him. But it meant that Shitty not coming out wasn't so weird! But he'd assumed Jack was straight. But Jack had trusted him anyway! But Jack had also pointed out Shitty didn't have his life together at all, and just...fuck everything.

He thought about it a lot, over the next couple of days. About coming out, and moving on, and being lonely. Then he called Lardo.

"I'm an asshole," he said, as soon as she picked up. "And being as I'm an asshole, it's entirely possible I haven't recognised all the asshole-ish things I've done. I've apologised to Jack, but if I've pissed you off or something,  _please_  tell me so I can fix it."

There was a pause. "Hi, Shitty."

Shitty sighed. "Sorry, Lardo. Hi. Seriously, though, please?"

"When was the last time you asked me about my senior project?" she said eventually. 

"Aww,  _fuck_ ," Shitty swore, running a hand through his hair. "Shit, Lardo, I'm sorry. I've been so messed up about law school...no, I'll shut up. How're you doing?"

"Honestly?" she replied. "I need a replacement as team manager, but I'll have to train them and I don't have any candidates. The workload is hell right now, especially without you there to bedazzle shit with me when I fuck up a deadline."

Shitty suddenly realised that, while he'd been focusing on how Jack had left  _him_  behind, he'd forgotten how  _he_  had left  _Lardo_  behind. "That sucks," he said, settling in to listen. "What's been happening?"

 

\-----

 

About a week later, he got a box of carefully packaged strawberry cream mini-pies in the mail, so it looked like he was forgiven.

 

\-----

 

As he settled in, things got better. He made more connections at Harvard; he visited Lardo more often, and talked to her more in general; Jack seemed to eke out some more time for him; and law school got busy enough that he didn't have so much free time to feel alone in. It wasn't perfect, but it all helped. 

It became kind of a tradition for him to come down on Jack's game nights and hang out at the Haus, and the more often he made the journey, the smaller the distance seemed between his old life and the new. And sitting squashed together on the nasty-ass couch gave him some cuddle time, which he sorely needed. Everything seemed to be improving...but then the Aces game happened.

The game itself wasn't the problem. Jack was a magnificent motherfucker as always, and yeah, Parson rode right on the edge of dodgy hockey, and yes, the Falconers lost, but losing's part of playing. It was the commentary, and more importantly, the commentary's effect on Bitty.

 

"Has he, like... _ever_  dropped a pie?" Chowder whispered worriedly as they cleaned up.

"He must have," Shitty replied, exchanging worried glances with Lardo. "But...I can't remember it." Bitty was just so damn sure of himself in the kitchen - he didn't  _drop_  things.

"Should we go after him?" Nursey asked. "He's been off lately."

Lardo shook her head, and Shitty got the feeling she knew more than she was going to say. "Give him some time to regroup. I'll check on him later."

"Do you think we did something to upset him?" Chowder asked, packing up Bitty's baking supplies. 

Shitty frowned. "Maybe...us talking about the homophobia shit?"

"Guys," Lardo said firmly. "Seriously. I'll talk to him later." She gave Shitty a look, and he backed down, knowing from experience that she was almost always right when she gave him that look.

"I guess," Shitty agreed. "I might sack out on the couch, though. It's not going to hurt anything if I stay til morning."

"It'll give you the plague," Lardo countered dryly. "I'll get an air mattress set up in my room, come on."

"I might call it a night then," Nursey said. "You guys let me know how it goes with Bitty, yeah?"

"We will," Chowder promised. "I might... I think I'll go over to Cait's, though. The wall between my room and Bitty's is kinda thin, so..."

Lardo nodded. "Good idea. Have a good night."

Once they'd left, Shitty turned to Lardo. "Are we seriously leaving him alone?"

"We're leaving him alone for at least an hour," she said firmly. " _Then_  you can go hug him."

"Why?" Shitty asked suspiciously. "Does he hate people seeing him cry or something? I wouldn't have picked  _Bitty_  of all people to have internalised that particular brand of toxic masculinity."

Lardo gave him a Look. "Bitty likes his privacy. Give him some time."

So Shitty waited, impatiently, until an hour had passed and he was absolutely  _sick_  of waiting. And then he went into Bitty's room and snuggled him until Bitty was smiling at least a little bit, even if he'd confessed  _absolutely nothing_  about  _why_  he'd been so upset in the first place, and then (at Bitty's insistence), he'd left, and slept in Lardo's room.

 

Slept in Lardo's bed, to be precise, with Lardo, and it was amazing. Shitty slept better than he could remember doing in months, and woke up drowsy and contented in the morning. "Mmm," he murmured sleepily, cuddling closer. "You should live with me so we can do this all the time."

Lardo stiffened in his arms. "I don't know who you're thinking of, Shits, but I'm not her," she said lowly.

It hurt. It stung like a bitch, to be precise. "I know who you are," Shitty insisted, pulling away. "You're my best fucking friend."

"That's Jack," she said flatly.

"A man can't have two best friends?" Shitty sat up. "Lardo, there's no girlfriend, or boyfriend, or genderqueer datefriend, there's  _no-one_  out there I'd rather live with than you."

Lardo searched his eyes, well-masked hurt slowly being replaced by sympathy. "Shits...it's not really true, what the guys say, is it? You know I'm gay."

"I know," Shitty replied. "It's not about that. This isn't some friendzone bullshit or something. You're my friend, and I love that, and that's what I want. I just..." Fuck it. "I'm ace. And aro."

Lardo blinked, and Shitty nervously watched her process. "...oh," she said eventually. "Um. What's the phrase you always use? Thank you for trusting me with this moment."

He laughed despite himself. "I should have trusted you with it years ago."

"Hey," Lardo said, shaking her head. "Everyone comes out in their own time. It's fine."

"Yeah, well..." Shitty shrugged. "I'm still kind of a coward. It's not like it mattered much while I was here, y'know? I had all you guys anyway. I had  _you_. But where I'm at now, I kinda need to be better at communicating if I don't want to be lonely as fuck."

 

There was a pause. "So...what are you saying?"

"I want... It's not that I want to date or something," he said. "I want us to still be bros, but like,  _committed_. I want you to be my non-romantic significant other, I guess."

"What happens when I've got a girlfriend?" Lardo asked neutrally. Even with all the practice he'd had, Shitty couldn't read her face.

Shitty shrugged. "I dunno... What did Rans and Holster do when Ransom started dating March?"

Lardo rolled her eyes. "Those two are ridiculous, honestly. But I take your point."

"Would you  _want_  to have something like that with me?" Shitty asked hesitantly. 

"...I think I'd like to try," Lardo said eventually. "I've missed you a lot this year, and I'm  _really_  not looking forward to moving out on my own."

"Fuck, if you came to Boston, I wouldn't have to live with my douche roommates anymore," Shitty realised. "Fuckin  _A_."

"There's art in Boston," Lardo murmured, looking up at the ceiling. "...we could actually do this."

"Fuck  _yeah,_ we can," Shitty said triumphantly, leaning over to land a smacking kiss on Lardo's cheek. 

She snorted and shoved him away, and it felt just like old times.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm fairly sure this was originally inspired by one of the many other amazing and creative people in this lovely fandom, but it was months ago, and I've forgotten who, and what they said. Essentially, I wrote it because I liked reading other people's ideas about Shitty feeling out of place at Harvard, and because there's no such thing as too much ace representation in fandom.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed it, and I'd love to hear what you thought!


End file.
